The Land of Lost Dreams
by Mark Richards
Summary: Star Wars fan fiction. The lost son of Grand Moff Tarkin comes to visit his father's resting place


THE LAND OF LOST DREAMS 

By Mark Richards 

I should have come here long ago. Surely I could have paid my final respects before now? What was it that stopped me from venturing to this place? Was it fear, or was it selfishness? Or perhaps I didn't ever want to accept what was the truth? The inescapable truth of life, and that is death. 

Maybe I was afraid. Scared of what I don't know, perhaps that I would see them here, feel their presence. How could I? They have left long ago, disappeared into the mindless swirling dust and gases of deep space. Amongst the rubble of fallen visions, of destroyed hopes, of lost concepts. Yes, this is the land of lost dreams. 

When I had grown up on Eridau, I had thought of Coruscant as the centre of the galaxy, not just physically but in a social and economical sense as well. Coruscant was the place where trends were set across the Empire, and long before that during the days of Republic. Attention was always focused on our capital, eyes watching closely the changing fashions and traditions, copying them out to all the most far-flung worlds with worrying automation. But Coruscant was for more than just a trendsetter for the rest of the galaxy. I always felt that it was the place of great minds, where knowledge flowed in a constant stream, where ideals and plans were made, Empires were built... 

Now they have all fallen. Gone - forever lost. I have come to see what I could of this dream world, the place that I had always sworn to visit. Now it has added poignancy. With the final failure of Grand Admiral Thrawn's campaigns, the last rites of the Empire have been served. I have come to perform the same here. I wanted to say goodbye to my father, a gesture that I have struggled with for years. It takes courage to admit to yourself that the goals of your life have just been swept away, taken out of your reach by those that feel they understand better than you what you should achieve. I wanted to serve the Empire; I wanted to follow my father down his glorious road, and to achieve something more. To once and for all make my mark as the man that I am. It will never be now though. 

Bitter? Yes, very bitter for those that have snatched away every chance of hope, in every step of my life. They took away my father, and they destroyed his natural successors, and finally they have crushed the Empire that he was so instrumental in building. They have shattered everything, destroyed it all. His memory is now faded, and few speak good of my father. They always talk of his crimes, of the actions that he took as if they were callous murder, and not the acts of war that they truly were. My father was misunderstood by the masses. They could never see the warmth, the spark of light that made him my father. Nor did they appreciate the intellect and tenacity that had built him into one of the most powerful men in the galaxy. He was hard at times, cruel perhaps, but no more than any other, and he was justified in his harshness. It was an unforgiving galaxy that he was sent to tame, and he did it with his iron-strong compassion, never letting pure emotion dictate his actions. He was a warrior in the true sense of the word. Committed to the cause, dedicated to those that he served, dealing death only when it was necessary for the ends. Not the act of a bloodthirsty ogre, but of the warrior that my father was. 

My father also had vision, not the narrow-mindedness of Emperor Palpatine. He could see beyond the plain and obvious, he saw depth and opportunity in everything. Around him he gathered the most brilliant of minds, building together, and sharing in, his dream. I was proud of that, even though I was only a teenager. I was in awe of the concept, entranced by the spectacular vision of his ultimate goal of a huge planetoid size battle station, capable of destroying entire worlds. Those that would not succumb to the Empire, would soon do so in fear of the terrible price if they resisted. 

They criticised him for the sheer brutality of the Death Star, but I could see its elegance, and simple efficiency. It was not designed to necessarily destroy worlds, but to pose that threat so that none would dare to have the audaciousness to oppose the Empire. If only the people of Alderaan could have seen that. Had they not stood against the Empire, defied the Emperor's command, then they would have had a glorious rule under my father. For it was always my father's intention to one day lead the Empire, that he had fought so hard to build. He would have given the galaxy a new definition of freedom and restored the vitality and diversity that had been crippled under Palpatine's martial law. The Tarkin leadership would have been very different. 

But it has all crumbled to dust now, washed away in the unrelenting seas of change that have eroded all but the most resilient rocks of the Empire. All that is left now is a few scraps that were strong enough to stand up against the Rebellion, and all that is left of my father is bitter recrimination, soured memories and selfish satisfaction that he died at the Battle of Yavin. That is what they think - the New Republic, but I still hold very precious, fond memories of him. I want the galaxy to know the truth about Grand Moff Tarkin, the real purpose of his actions, not the blood-drenched hypotheses of those that have discredited his name. 

Everyday hurts without him. How can I ever live up to his ideals or succeed in my ambition to achieve more than he ever did? I can't. The future that was mine has been taken away, torn apart by those that only understand the cost of war in terms of their own personal injury. They don't appreciate the human cost of life for the Empire or those like me who have survived it. I will never be accepted into the New Republic at any level, or any rank. I am an outsider to them tarnished with the same brush of contempt and misplaced hate as my father. They will think that I am only there to betray them, or at best to sabotage their government. Nothing could be farther from the fact. I only want to have a chance to share some of the glory that my father showed was possible. If even in only a very small way I could be like him that would make me the proudest man in the galaxy. At least then I would accomplish what I have never been able to do during his life, and that is too show my love and affection. I would have made him proud of me, but it's all too late now. 

Here on Coruscant they erected a monument to the lost lives of the Death Star. Only a few bodies were ever recovered, most were consumed in the huge enveloping fireball of the battle station's destruction. I arranged to be at the private funeral, I didn't want to be involved in the dedication and commemoration ceremony on Coruscant, the hurt was too great too allow me to do that. In the instant that the Death Star was destroyed I lost my chance to ever bury the regrets that have haunted me since. The words that I could have said, the actions that I could have taken, the decisions I could have made, the achievements that I could have made to make father proud of me. He died never knowing how deeply I loved him, nor knowing that his dream would be so brutally cast aside. 

Now is the first time that I have been able to come to Coruscant to see the memorial that they erected to the dead of Yavin. All I find though is a shattered ruin, the once fine transparisteel and duracrete structure shattered into infinite pieces, and lethal shards scattered far and wide. This was my last hope of some respect for my father, of some reconciliation. I am so naïve. The New Republic, for all its declarations of peace and justice, had never been able to apply its principles to the memory of the Empire. They wanted the war to be forgotten, neatly packaged away in the past, but that is not what the galaxy is about. The galaxy remembers, and those of us that stood by the leaders of the Empire, those that loved and cherished its rulers, never forget. 

They may tear down every memory of the Empire, take away the achievements of our once great leadership, discredit the victories of our warriors, destroy the reputations of our fallen, but they will never destroy our love. Forever I will remember my father for the man that he really was. A man of deep compassion and understanding, of will and ambition, of drive and objective, not the cruel barbarian that the New Republic have painted him as. Here on Coruscant is where he should be remembered with his fallen comrades. This monument should be his last moment. Even that has been taken away. I could imagine the uproar if the graves of the Alliance dead on Yavin had been disfigured or destroyed, the accusations that would be made, the stunned horror of the galaxy. Yet here on Coruscant, in the centre of the galaxy, not only physically but politically, the graves of our dead - our glorious dead - of my father, have been ruined for eternity and not one person weeps a tear of regret, or utters a curse of disgust. 

The Alliance that killed my father spoke of its aims of freedom, justice, democracy and respect, yet it smothers all of those basic rights for its enemies. In view of all that the Grand Moff Tarkin brought to the galaxy, they could offer at least an attempt at reconcilliation, but no, this democratic and free New Republic, suppresses all hope of that. 

For all the disappointment and anger that I have felt on my visit to my father's final resting place on Coruscant, I am also glad that I came. It has been the last opportunity for me to say goodbye, to bid farewell to Grand Moff Tarkin, the man that so shaped our galaxy, and gave me more than a father, but a purpose and a hope. Now I must return to my life in the shadows, constantly hiding and running from the New Republic, seeking escape from their injustice. When they find me I will be brought for trial, accused no doubt of being a traitor to the New Republic, if only through my association with my late father. It doesn't matter if they do find me anymore. I have done what I needed to do. I have said all I need to say. 

Goodbye, father. 

? Mark Richards, July 1998 


End file.
